


my blood singing in your voice

by fletcherstringham



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9632189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fletcherstringham/pseuds/fletcherstringham
Summary: Sometimes Russell Tringham hasgoodideas, or so his boyfriend thinks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy some Valentine's Day rarepair smut! ♥ Feedback is appreciated!

Wrapped in Russell Tringham’s arms, his eyes fluttering shut as Russell nuzzles the soft skin behind his ear, there’s not much more that Ling Yao could ask for right now. Yet, after a moment, Russell murmurs against his cheek, “I actually have something else for you.”

“Really?” Ling says, all innocence. He leans in for a kiss; he keeps the touch of their mouths gentle and light at first, the better to startle him when Ling nips his bottom lip, drawing a tiny gasp. In retaliation, the hand Russell has between Ling’s shoulders slides down his back to cup his ass. Ling doesn’t try to contain a low moan when Russell squeezes, nor a flirty grin when he presses in close. “I bet I can guess what it is.”

“No, I think you’ll be surprised,” Russell answers lightly, which piques Ling’s interest. Here he thought Russell was just teasing, since insanely passionate sex on Valentine’s Day is a given. It sounds like he actually has something special planned; leave it to Russell, Ling thinks. With a coy smile of his own, he leads Ling by the hand over to the sofa and sits him down, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear in a slow, reverent motion that makes Ling chuckle, full of fondness for him. “Wait here for me,” Russell says, “and I’ll call you when I’m ready. It’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Don’t be too long,” Ling murmurs, and Russell’s eyes gleam. He kisses Ling again before he retreats into the bedroom, leaving Ling to wait eagerly for whatever he has in store.

When it takes longer than the thirty or so seconds that Ling anticipated, he leans back against the couch and lazily watches the door.

When nearly ten minutes go by without a word, however, Ling crosses over to the door in some puzzlement.

“Russell?” he calls. He knocks gently, just for good measure. “Are you all right? Do you still need time, or can I come in?”

“You can come in,” Russell responds, with a concerning lack of confidence. Ling opens the door at once.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, hands folded in his lap, Russell wears his bathrobe and a very concerning expression—Ling can’t place it exactly, but the combination of self-consciousness and vague discomfort immediately sends him to Russell’s side.

“Hey,” he says softly, sitting beside him, covering his hands with his own. “What’s wrong, love? Why do you look like that? What’s the matter?”

Russell doesn’t answer at first, looking away with a soft sigh. He frees one hand from Ling’s to adjust the collar of the robe; a glance shows Ling bare skin before the material covers it, suggesting he’s naked underneath it. That can’t be why he’s uncomfortable, Ling thinks. They’ve seen each other undressed many, many times; surely he’s gotten over being shy? Before Ling can ask, Russell shifts to get a leg out from under him, stretching it out in front of him. Ling can’t help but blink when he looks down and sees, not a bare calf, not even the dress pants Russell wore to dinner, but the sheer white fabric of a stocking. He looks back up at a red-faced Russell and tries to keep his mouth from hanging open.

“What are you wearing?” Ling finally asks in a slow, careful voice.

Looking close to pained, Russell sits back and unties the robe with trembling fingers. He opens it slowly, while a small, choked noise escapes Ling’s throat in his shock.

He isn’t naked, not totally. But the lingerie embellishes more than it covers—an under-bust corset begins midway down his flushed and hairless chest, the white lace so sheer that the pink of his skin shows through even along the sides, where it’s thickest to make a delicate floral pattern visible. It’s almost completely transparent down the center; Ling can see Russell’s stomach quiver with his unsteady breathing clear as anything through the material.

Attached to the corset’s intricate trim are garters— _garters_ —that connect to lace-topped, thigh-high stockings. Between the corset and the stockings? Panties, of course. Creamy white panties with more intricate flowers drawn in the lace, clinging to Russell’s narrow hips and bulging slightly in the crotch, the thin material just barely containing his cock.

“Holy shit,” Ling breathes.

“Is it too much?” Russell asks quickly, and covers himself with the robe again before Ling has come anywhere close to having looked his fill. “I think so, too—I mean, it was a great idea on paper, and then I put it on and I kind of had a moment of, ‘Fuck, I’m crossdressing,’ which I’m fairly certain would make me from two years ago faint if he knew, not to mention how my classmates and coworkers and _boss_ would surely lose all respect for me if they could s—”

“Russell, Russell, stop,” Ling breaks in, before he gets too carried away. Russell shuts his mouth with a click, worrying at his lip with his teeth as he searches Ling’s face for—validation? Approval? Ling does his best to provide both, taking one of Russell’s hands in his own and laying the other against his cheek. “It doesn’t matter what you from the past or your coworkers or _whoever_ thinks of this because unless you’re inviting them to bed with us, they’re not going to _know_. It’s none of their business, point blank. And, more importantly, your respectability isn’t determined by your sexual preferences. Okay?”

“Okay. I know. I’m sorry.” Russell presses his hand over his face with a harsh sigh. “I just had a moment. You know how I get.”

“I do. You don’t need to apologize for it, though.” Ling smooths his hair out of his face. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I just thought—” here, Russell’s voice cracks with a nervous laugh, “—I thought you might like it.”

“I do!” Ling says again, this time earnestly. Yet, when Russell averts his eyes again, Ling makes his tone more solemn. “I don’t want this unless you’re happy, too, though,” he tells him. “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Russell says. He gives a small, timid smile, worlds away from his usual smug smirk. “Just a little nervous.” His fingers fidget at the lapels of his robe again. “You’re sure you like it?”

“Totally, absolutely, positively sure,” Ling answers at once, complete with an eager nod. His own hands cover Russell’s as they slowly inch back open the robe, exposing that pretty lace corset to Ling’s eyes again. A breathless laugh escapes Ling’s mouth. “You look gorgeous,” he says softly, before Russell interprets the sound as mocking.

Russell’s blush deepens, but he’s still smiling, looking adorable in his shyness. Slowly, he shrugs the robe off his shoulders and places it carefully at his feet. Ling readily takes the invitation to let his eyes feast—he admires the intricate threads that decorate his sides and hips with little flowers, his gaze lingering on the snug fit of the panties and his long, shapely legs in the sheer stockings. Ling’s fingers gently slide over where the corset’s thinnest at Russell’s belly; he easily feels the warmth of Russell’s skin through the fabric, which makes both of them shiver.

“Do you mind standing up to let me have a better look?” Ling asks quietly, leaning in close. He rewards Russell with a kiss when he nods, a gentle, reassuring thing to try and settle the last of his jumping nerves.

Ling takes his hands as he rises, giving Ling an unencumbered view of him looking sweet and vulnerable in delicate, white-as-snow lingerie. He almost looks virginal, which Ling can’t say he minds. The material scratches lightly as Ling runs his hands over it; he follows the patterns in the lace and fingers the trim of the corset and panties, just barely brushing the strip of skin between, then slides his hands over to Russell’s back, bare but for the satin ribboning that holds the corset in place. The panties cover Russell’s ass, Ling gleans from his light, inquisitive touches, but they cling so tightly that they leave little to the imagination anyway. Russell breathes slow and deep through Ling’s inspection, his eyelids fluttering as Ling brushes his more sensitive areas; if he’s still on edge, it seems to be more desire than apprehension, now.

Leaning back on his hands, Ling enjoys another long, admiring look at him. “Russell Tringham,” he murmurs, “you are—and this is an objective fact—one of the most breathtakingly beautiful people I’ve ever had the privilege of laying my eyes on.” He smiles and holds out his arms. “Come here.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Russell climbs onto the bed, straddling Ling’s lap as Ling winds his arms around his neck and claims his lips in a long, hot kiss. The momentum pulls Russell on top of him within a few seconds; Ling doesn’t mind, gladly taking the opportunity to let his hands roam over his back, as greedy as he was previously gentle. One hand scratches his shoulders above the corset, while the other grabs Russell’s ass, stroking and squeezing to low, appreciative sounds.

Soon, though, Ling gets tired of being pressed underneath him, and he holds him tight to change their position in one smooth motion. Suddenly flat on his back, Russell stares up at him with the sweetest wide-eyed expression, flushed and panting from their fierce kisses—looking, quite simply, like he needs to be debauched very, very thoroughly. It’s a job that Ling will happily see through.

Straddling him now, Ling leans down to kiss him again, passionate, possessive. Russell tugs at his jacket, reminding Ling of the inconvenience of his clothes. He sits back and sheds the jacket in one movement, then makes swift work of his shirt buttons; never one to sit idly by, Russell fiddles with Ling’s jeans, and Ling surprises them both by gently batting his hands away.

“Let me,” he tells him, when Russell lifts an eyebrow. Ling plants his hands on either side of his head and leans in close, their mouths a breath apart as he murmurs, “You’ve already gone to the trouble of making yourself _so pretty_ for me. You don’t need to do anything else except lie back and let me enjoy my present.” It makes Russell’s breath hitch, and he nods eagerly.

Annoying as they are, Ling removes the rest of his clothing a little more slowly, just to give him a bit of a show. By the time Ling tosses his boxers to the floor with everything else, they’re both half hard already, Russell breathing harshly as Ling hugs his hips between his thighs and puts a little weight on his cock. He chuckles at the small noise he makes, then leans down to Russell’s unmarked neck to mouth at it duly.

Ling sighs into the soft hollow of his throat, following a gentle kiss with a forceful nip that draws a little groan. Russell squirms, clearly wanting to move, but he obeys Ling’s directive and does little more than tip his chin to expose his neck. Pleased with his compliance, Ling starts to gently grind his hips, smirking against Russell’s collarbone as he stutters near his ear, cock stiffening against Ling’s thigh under the thin lace.

Slowly, Ling works his mouth over Russell’s neck and chest, determined to leave no skin untouched. By the time he reaches the corset, he has to slide back for better access; the lack of pressure on his dick makes Russell whine softly. Ling kisses down his soft, trembling stomach, mouthing the material to leave it wet and clinging. Russell’s gentle sighs become higher and thinner as Ling’s mouth travels slowly downward, until he’s nuzzling at the thin strip of skin between the corset and the panties.

Then, of course, he detours. Ling skips idly to the top of Russell’s left thigh, pressing kisses over it like he doesn’t hear Russell’s frustrated little noise. He fingers the satin straps of the garters; he traces the flowered designs in the lace of the stockings, first with his fingertips, then with his tongue.

He knows that Russell enjoys the attention, the teasing. It’s his stupid pride that has him determined to seem cool and unbothered. That determination makes the yelp he gives when Ling suddenly bites the inside of his thigh much, much more satisfying. His breath rattles as Ling sucks the skin between his teeth until it’s dark and raw; then, with his thumb, he scrapes the rough lace over it, which makes Russell squirm.

Ling repeats with the opposite thigh, kissing and nuzzling until Russell lets his guard down and then biting like he’s signing his work. With both of his thighs wet and raw and Ling’s lips sneaking up his hip, Russell’s composure is in the loveliest of shambles—he’s panting now, fingers scrabbling at the sheets, and he spreads his legs as Ling settles on his stomach between them. He lifts his hips a little, clearly wanting Ling to take the panties off. Ling ignores him; it’s easy enough to mouth at him through them, and much more fun to listen to him gasp at the combined sensation of Ling’s warm, wet mouth and the gentle scratch of the lace.

His cock strains at the thin material, the tip nearly poking out over the waistband. Ling just drags his mouth lower; nuzzling with his nose, he determines by shape where his balls are and sucks one through the lace, then the other, inspiring soft, strangled noises.

“Fuck,” Russell whispers, as Ling traces the tip of his tongue down his perineum. He kisses his way back up, refocusing on his thigh; he cups Russell’s crotch in his hand instead, squeezing his erection to produce a sharp, desperate gasp. “Fuck, Ling!” He tips his head back and groans as Ling strokes him as much as his tight panties will allow, smirking as he feels pre-come wet the lace under his palm.

“Why don’t you use your words, love?” Ling murmurs, still fondling his crotch, just enough to make him needy. He gives another rough squeeze when Russell draws a breath, so that he moans instead of speaks. “You’re normally so good with them.”

Russell cants his hips again; Ling holds him down with a hand at his waist. His rough exhale is almost a whimper. “Take them _off_ , Ling,” he grits out, and then whines when Ling takes his hand from between his legs, unimpressed by the harsh tone of his voice. “Please, Ling,” he corrects himself, soft, compliant, “please take them off. I want to feel you touch me, please.”

Ling hums. “Mm, better.” He unclips his garters and makes slow work of sliding his hands to Russell’s hips, teasing the hem of his panties with most of his attention on Russell’s face—eyelids fluttering, lips red and parted, cheeks an eager, pretty pink. “Look at you,” Ling murmurs, and Russell glances at him hazily through disheveled blond hair. “You’re in pieces already, love, and I haven’t even fucked you yet. Imagine how you’ll fall apart when I take your hot, hard cock inside me, hm?”

He hooks his fingers in the panties and carefully tugs them down Russell’s legs. Russell doesn’t dare move, but Ling sees his thighs tremble as he resists the urge to squirm or buck.

“Oh, wait. I don’t _have_ to imagine that.” Tossing the panties aside with the rest of their abandoned clothes, Ling slides his hands up Russell’s thighs and leans in with a wicked smile. “I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t have to imagine that, because I get to see it for myself. Only I get to see you like this. Just me. No one else.”

“No one else,” Russell repeats in a murmur, the last syllable cracking as Ling closes his hand around his freed cock, squeezing the base. “Just you, Ling,” he whispers as Ling strokes him, soft and slow. “Just you.”

“And you like that, don’t you, Russell? You _like_ being all mine,” Ling tells him, to a frantic nod. He keeps on petting his cock, just enough to tease, not to satisfy. “You just love it when I pin you down and ride you for all you’re worth, don’t you, Russell?”

“I do, I really do,” he gasps.

“Is that what you want, love? Is that what you want right now?”

“ _Yes_ , fuck! Fuck!”

He whines, a stuttering, desperate sound, when Ling moves the hand from his cock to fondle his balls instead. It only takes a few seconds of teasing to get Russell squirming, his breaths coming harsh and fast and his thighs shaking where they’re spread open on the bed.

Well pleased with the picture he makes, Ling presses a soft, nearly chaste kiss to the side of Russell’s neck and crawls over him to slide off the bed in front of the nightstand, where he finds the lubricant and a condom. He takes his time in returning to Russell, sprawling out next to him and letting his fingertips dance along his chest. When he kisses his lips, Russell returns it with fervor, as far from calm and composed as it’s possible to be. Ling opens the condom with a practiced hand and slides it onto Russell’s cock, throwing aside the wrapper in favor of the bottle of lube. Russell nearly salivates at the sight of it.

“Please let me,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Mm, no,” Ling tells him, all sweetness. “You just lie back and wait until I’m ready.” The groan of frustration becomes into a soft, heady noise of desire as Ling uncaps the bottle and slicks up his hand, sitting up on his knees and spreading his own thighs to better finger himself open. “Just watch,” he breathes, tracing a finger along the crease of his ass, caressing his balls before slowly breaching his hole. Ling lets his eyes fall shut, tilting his head and biting his lip as he works.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Russell murmurs, a little helplessly. Eyes still closed, Ling’s chuckle turns into a tiny moan as he finds his prostate; he strokes it, making himself sigh, until he relaxes enough to add a second finger. He peers at Russell through his eyelashes and can’t help but smile at the soft, nearly doting look on his face. “You’re beautiful. I’m so lucky to have you, Ling. I love you so much, you know that, right?”

“Mm, I do. And I love you, too. So, so much.”

When he can thrust three fingers in and out with relative ease, shaking slightly around them as Russell softly mewls his approval, Ling squeezes more lubricant onto his hand and thoroughly coats Russell’s cock. With that, he straddles him, takes a breath, and sinks down, slow and easy. Russell’s pleased groan dies in his throat.

“How’s that?” Ling whispers, as he starts a gentle, steady rhythm to adjust to the stretch of his dick. One hand rests on Russell’s shoulder; with the other, Ling reaches behind his head and fumbles at the tie in his hair, letting it loose, the way Russell likes. It bounces a little with his rocking as it spills over his shoulders and chest. “Feels good?”

“Oh, my God, yes.” Ling picks up some speed, thrusting onto Russell’s cock with a little more force, and Russell gasps, “Oh, fuck, Ling, just like that. Just like that, please.”

Ling laughs, but he changes his angle after a few moments, not wanting Russell to finish just yet; he’ll have to get off him if Russell comes first, and Ling knows how much they’ll both love it if Ling comes riding his dick. For this, and this reason only, he focuses on himself for now. He doesn’t move back and forth as much as he does up and down, adjusting his hips until he finds the angle where each downward motion hits his prostate; he directs his thrusts from there. As the pleasure builds, Ling increases speed and force until he’s almost bouncing on Russell’s cock, while Russell watches, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“Holy fuck,” he gasps. “Holy _fuck_.”

“Enjoying the show?” Ling asks huskily, which earns an ecstatic nod, his eyes hazy and his cheeks flushed as he drinks in the sight of Ling. Ling’s own cock aches for attention, but he only touches it with a light hand, the better part of his energy in the eager movement of his hips. Before long, he’s panting himself, his teeth gritted in pleasure as he throws his head back and rakes his fingernails down Russell’s chest, drawing a startled moan.

“You feel so good, love.” It’s nearly a growl, Ling’s voice dark as the pressure, like the heat under his skin, reaches uncontainable levels. “Fuck. This is how you should always be, Russell, flat on your back under me while I ride you until I come all over you.”

“Yes, yes,” Russell whispers, a soft plea as he desperately nods.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to come all over you?” Ling slides a palm up Russell’s corset, then pinches his nipple between his fingers. “All over your pretty clothes?”

“Fuck, _fuck_ , yes!” Russell gasps out, clutching the sheets as Ling thrusts hard and fast, his eyes shut, his stiff cock bouncing with his rough movements.

Even without touching himself, Ling’s close, but Russell must be even more so, his face pinched as he strains to hold himself back. For that, Ling takes his dick in his fist and pumps. He quickly starts to leak as he edges toward climax, chest heaving and voice cracking with the intensity of it.

“Please come for me, Ling,” Russell rasps, and _that_ —the tight, broken whisper, shaking in equal parts eagerness and desperation—that does it for him. Ling orgasms with a hoarse whine, his head tipped back, his body trembling all over as he rides Russell through the hot, unfurling waves of pleasure. As promised, his come spills onto Russell’s belly, staining the sheer fabric of the corset; still, Ling isn’t satisfied until he smears his wet palm from Russell’s waist to his neck to really get him sticky with it.

For a moment, Ling’s hips go still, Ling pressing his palms onto the bed as he struggles to get his breath back, the aftershocks still making him shudder. Russell watches him reverently from under him, though he still doesn’t touch him, obedient even now. It’s time to reward him for that obedience—Ling pushes his sweaty hair out of his face and starts to rock, swinging his hips back and forth at a pace that quickly gets Russell whimpering.

“That’s it,” Ling murmurs as Russell arches his back, scrambling for purchase in the bedsheets. He doesn’t find it before he comes so suddenly he startles even himself; he gasps and ducks his head into his shoulder as he shudders, causing Ling to lean forward to cup his face and turn it back toward him. “Look at me,” he says gently, still rocking his hips, determined to give him every bit of pleasure that he can.

Instead of just meeting his eyes, Russell leans up and kisses him, arms encircling Ling’s neck to tug him down against his chest. Ling can’t bring himself to feel anything but wholly, absolutely content as he returns that kiss; they cling to each other for several long seconds, hips still stuttering weakly, and go still in almost perfect unison. It’s Ling who breaks the kiss, propping up on his arms to hover over him. With gentle fingers, he tucks Russell’s messy hair out of his face, the better to admire his shining eyes and warm, loving smile. Ling smiles back, his chest ready to burst with affection for him.

“Well,” Ling says, after several moments of gentle quiet, “that was fun.”

Russell laughs so hard he nearly chokes.

He pulls out of Ling as his cock softens, but despite the impressive mess they’ve made, they stay entwined for several minutes, Russell’s head pillowed on Ling’s shoulder as Ling’s fingertips trace the cobbled path of his spine. Reality sets in before they get too comfortable; Russell starts to itch between the tight lace and drying come, and even Ling feels uncomfortably sticky with sweat and lube.

“You go have a shower,” Ling tells him, pressing a kiss under his ear. “I’ll fix the bed up and join you in a few.”

Lazily throwing on Russell’s bathrobe, Ling gathers the sheets and Russell’s dirty lingerie and tosses them in the washer to soak overnight. By the time he makes the bed with clean sheets, Russell’s through with his shower, but Ling doesn’t complain; he gladly lets him put on something warm and crawl under the blanket while he goes to wash up himself. He’s joining him in bed before long, damp-haired and in Russell’s pajamas, and happily gathering Russell in his arms to hug him against his chest.

It’s a comfortable silence, but Ling has to break it after several minutes, fingers gently stroking Russell’s wet hair. “So,” he ventures cautiously, while Russell peers at him, “is that something we can do again?”

Russell snorts, tucking his head into Ling’s shoulder. “Talk about a one-track mind.”

“Not what I meant,” Ling says, giving his shin a light kick. Russell squirms away from his cold feet. “I’m asking if you’re okay with what just happened. None of that panic or anxiety from before?”

“No, I’m fine,” Russell tells him, smiling contentedly against the skin of Ling’s throat. “I feel fine. Thank you for asking.”

“In that case…” Now Ling’s gentle smile becomes a sly grin. “When _can_ we do it again?”

He can’t see his face, but he’s willing to bet that Russell rolls his eyes. “Well, if it’s every night, that would ruin the spectacle of it.”

“There is nothing in heaven or hell that could ruin that for me, Russell,” Ling insists.

He just laughs. “I was thinking for special occasions. Holidays, birthdays, you know.”

“Presidents’ Day is next week,” Ling chirps.

“Oh, that doesn’t count.”

“It’s a federal holiday! You said holidays!” Ling tells him.

“I meant _relevant_ holidays, Ling,” Russell says long-sufferingly.

“Saint Patrick’s Day, then. Don’t look at me like that, it’s relevant! You can wear green!”

“I’m sleeping,” Russell says against his neck. “Goodnight.”

“If I have to wait until my birthday to see you dressed up again, I might actually die,” Ling informs him.

“I highly doubt that.”

Ling pouts for several seconds before an idea comes to him, making a slow, wicked grin spread over his face. “What if I dress up, too?”

Russell sits up so fast he makes the headboard shake.


End file.
